finding the inbetween
by quorra laraex
Summary: Whether it's love or hate or something in the middle, his pupils dilate when he sees her. — Sasuke/Sakura


**a/n:** you can't just read 631 & 632 and _not_ write something.

* * *

**finding the inbetween**  
(_eyes on fire, falling back eventually_)

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

Sakura Haruno isn't beautiful in a way that would make a jaw drop and eyes have the need to do a double-take. She isn't conventionally gorgeous with killer looks and perfect curves. But she _does_ have these large, lily pad eyes that burn into his onyx orbs and every time they make this simple contact, it's difficult for him to break away (and then he remembers it's exactly why he couldn't face her the night of that unforgettable declaration between teeth and tongue)—and she _does_ own this natural sunset haze of a hair color that's different and makes her look too exotic for her own good, and this laugh that reeks of optimism and hope that's actually capable of this oddodd_odd_ feeling in his stomach—and a body that looked so thin of bones (when in reality—muscle) so fragile, that he once dreamed—being clear, _unconsciously_—back in his genin days, destroying with his in (only _natural_) ways a pubescent child had thoughts of during the night.

It makes him feel weak in the knees, just a bit, because god_damn_ he once tried to kill her—_Sakura_. And he had been so close and his hands would have been drenched in her blood and he would have been the cause of it with remorse he wouldn't be able to alleviate. And he understands; how she could not finish the job, the duty to do away with him with that damn poison-induced kunai she held at his back.

This was the girl—this _is_ the girl who once _loved_ him in ways no one did (and he doesn't know if she still does and it's still obvious the blonde idiot is still head-over-heels for her) and this is the girl that maybe, perhaps, in ways, he could have loved in return. Or perhaps, he did.

And maybe, he still does.

He wouldn't know, really. He hasn't felt passion (unless it was_ bloodthirsty wrapped in venom _and_ ready for vengeance_) since he was a mere child. Sasuke Uchiha is not capable of distinguishing feeling from feeling. All he knew is that he'd protect her, without a moment's hesitation and when risking his own life. And he'll still do that.

It could be because she was a childhood acquaintance, or because she'd always been a hopeful friend, or because she'd been the only one to sacrifice her _everything_ for him and he wishes he could return the favor—to be as selfless as she was to him.

But, that's not the man he is. He's aware of this, too—because with her, (and oddly enough, _only_ with her) he's selfish.

There are a lot of voices and a lot of unforgiving comments and rants and conversing he doesn't care enough to listen to when he lands on the battlefield, prepared to fight with the very town that killed his whole clan—but then he hears her voice croak his name from somewhere behind him and he stops in his tracks and it isn't as if he intentionally did so; it's _instinctive_ to look past his shoulder and meet those familiar eyes and for a second, he freezes. He says her name in return and it's (too) foreign on his tongue; enough for him to taste bitter remorse and shake their gaze.

He explains himself, of course, to these dimwits of teams and he avoids meeting that juxtaposition of suspicion and optimism in those bottle pea eyes the entire time.

And now after that little charade of a reunion and Sakura's preaching about being stronger, (which he also shakes off because she's _Sakura_ and he wonders why Naruto's completely okay with her putting her life on the line so recklessly) they're fighting, and all Sasuke's thinking of his how he's ready to pumble the shit out of Madara and these pricks of clones. His muscles tense and his fists clamp while his stance steadies before he's immediately interrupted by her leverage—ground roaring under his feet and a sound of a punch so loud he thinks it's _Naruto_ until he realizes the idiot's right beside him and a clone comes flying in between them with furious velocity.

"What the f—," he doesn't finish because he sees that it's her and there she goes; a flying head of sunset pink and red with a fist kissing the clones gut to its death. Naruto's making these sob-like sounds as if he's actually afraid of the girl, and Sasuke can't help but actually allow the corners of his lips to twitch up at the sight of the elevation in strength. "_Heh_."

The irony of it all.

He catches her grinning and he can't seem to _not_ feel relieved at the sight. And then there's one behind her—_stupid girl will really get herself killed_; and like a reflex, he kills it with his own technique, paying no mind to the boy beside him willing to do the same. And when it's dead and Sakura's standing there in awe at the action, he bolts to her side. There is no way he's allowing a single scratch on her ivory skin.

"_Sasuke-kun_," she says as if she's surprised at his gesture. And he realizes that it's only natural, since the last time they'd been this close to one another, they _both_ attempted murder.

"Not bad, Sakura," and he doesn't face her because he doesn't waste time on distractions, (and goddamn those eyes) but she does notice the slight curve of his mouth from the side and that's enough to make her feel warm.

Naruto's obnoxiously cheering them on, and within his yells, Sasuke hears faint words escape her lips. "You saved me."

It really shouldn't be that hard to believe, he thinks. He has saved her before and countless times had he worried for that helpless child back when their team was unbroken. He leaves her comment in the air with no response as they ready themselves for more to come.

/

He hates to admit it, but she's strong.

And not just an _I-can-give-you-a-blackeye-and-bruises-larger-than- your-face _kind of strong, but to the point where Sasuke would actually be entertained to spar with. He watches her swiftly retaliate from blocking a simple hit and automatically swings herself into a new position to beat the _thing_ in a minute—tops. He can only watch in a hint of admiration and the thought lasts less than two seconds and he mentally berates himself for even thinking it, but if he were the unbroken soul and marrying type, he probably would have craved for her to be his wife.

But the Uchiha's shot back into reality and the glimpse of a vision that was almost so clear leaves him as he puts pressure on the gash on his arm and Kiba lands by and stares where he had been looking for the time Sasuke had presumed was a short while. To his dismay, not short enough.

"You don't deserve her," the mutt says a-matter-of-factly.

It bothers him, but displaying no signs of irritation or emotion whatsoever had always been his forte. His face remains blank, heart absent.

But he's right.

And Sasuke remembers why he's fighting on this ground in the first place. He tucks mentality away, as if humanity was a mere switch on his body that was simple enough to flicker on and off.

/

He isn't reminded of her until she defeats (or rather, _interrupts_ his killing rendezvous) the clone he was about to incinerate with a strike of his very hands and his mouth slightly gaping in irritation.

And then she's healing him because that's her job and she heals _everybody_.

And she smiles at him because she's Sakura and he scowls in return because he's Sasuke and that's how he is and how he'll always be.

(when will she _get _it?)

/

He tells her that he'll never be the man she continues to keep in her heart because he's changed and their all damaged and there's no repair available for the kinds of injuries eating away at him. Sakura doesn't cry, he notices. She suggests informatively, _that these bruises we dwell upon shape us into better, wise people._ And he's quick to state that she's just being annoying and unrealistic and trudges toward him (who isn't facing her with reason) and turns his body around just to allow the palm of her hand to clap with the side of his face.

He glares at her and she returns the grimace, their eyes on fire.

He says she'll never be able to understand, demands her to stop trying.

She suggests they find an inbetween.

Sasuke smirks because she's so stupidly hopeful and he's envious that he no longer has even a squint of that trait in him. And then she does something he'll never quite forget, where her lips meet the side of his face, soothing the heated skin where she had previously slapped and he looks at her in a mixture of skepticism and confusion, brows narrowed and mouth lined.

"Do you see how easily pain can be forgotten?"

/

He's kissing her, hard and fast and rough against a cabinet in the tent—had they even zipped the flap?—weapons so close to being used against each other in annoyance and rage and desperation, forgotten on the ground at the entrance. And she's practically ripping his clothes off whilst stripping hers and he can only admire this more, being able to expose her in ways no one could and bruise her in ways that wouldn't terrorize her but make her cheeks flush whenever she'd remember getting them. They aren't thinking when they clash against tables and chairs and finally make their way to a goddamn cot. He's being stupid and reckless, just as she is, not giving a single damn and he can't believe he hadn't realized how good this would have ever felt in the middle of a fucking _war_.

The way she trails her lips along his jaw and down his neck and even further soothes his veins and eases his strains. With easy strength, he switches their positions and pulls her body so he's on top and _fuck_, once he's in, she sets fire to the pain and continues to feed the flames.

"Sakura," her name escapes past his lips and he forgets it, forgets everything—a clean, blank, blissful slate that gives him a happy emptiness including Sakura, sensation, and a sense of nirvana—the inbetween they'd been needing, been _craving_ all their lives.

/

He's a bit surprised the next morning when he wakes up alone, with no trace of her but the faint scent of cherry blossoms and lust by his side. When he dresses and exits the flap of the tent, he notices the familiar teammate pounding somewhere in the distance, already in battle.

It occurs to him then, with her hair a disheveled coral with both bright, both mossy large green eyes and skin bruised with purple-blue caused by the one and only; she _is_ beautiful in the way where jaws could drop and eyes could longingly linger upon.

He'd already caught himself doing so more than once.

**.**

**.**

**.**

* * *

_fin_.

* * *

**a/n:** so. i really hoped this wasn't ooc, because we all know sasuke's dark and cruel and coldhearted and all that jazz, but it's always from someone else's perspective. i mean, he's still _human_. and i wanted to capture that side of him, that's all.

please review! i love and need and crave feedback. your thoughts are always nice to hear


End file.
